With Time, Ryun's Record Recedes

Liquori, in a phone interview from his Florida home, partly blamed the drop in top performances by high school milers on a reduction in college scholarships for track. "Now American kids don't feel they have to rush" to prove themselves by 18, said Liquori, who was the last American to be ranked as the world's top miler but never the world record holder. He also said he and Ryun were allowed to compete against the world's best runners while still teenagers. "But now," he said, "a kid runs a 4:02 mile, the big meets don't want you, you're too far off the world record."

Ryun, interviewed in his office, said: "There are no simple answers. It takes a great deal of work and a great deal of pain" to be a top miler. A youngster also must have inherent skill and a rare knack for avoiding injuries, he said, adding softly, "God gave me some wonderful talent."

No one questions that he worked fiercely to exploit it.

While still in his teens, Ryun became known for grueling twice-a-day workouts. Some involved running a quarter-mile at blistering speeds, 20 times, with scant time to catch his breath between each dash.

Ryun ran a 3:55.3 mile before entering the University of Kansas, then set the world record in 1966 with a 3:51.3 race, knocking an impressive 2.3 seconds off Frenchman's Michael Jazy's year-old mark. The next year, in Bakersfield, Calif., he set the 3:51.1 record that would stand until Bayi's great run.

"It was the easiest race I ever ran in my life," Ryun said, noting that he led the entire way rather than relying on his famous come-from-behind kick. He thinks he might have run a couple of seconds faster had there been a leader to chase.

Ryun also held world records in the 1,500 meters and the half-mile, but many fans demanded more, especially in the Olympic Games. He made the 1964 U.S. team as a 17-year-old, but failed to qualify for the finals. He took the silver medal in the 1,500 in 1968. And he fell after colliding with another runner in a qualifying heat at the Munich Games in 1972, essentially ending his career.

Ryun, saying he was fouled, was stunned when officials refused to reinstate him. But he said a newfound religious faith helped him accept the ruling, as he explains in a small brochure, "In Quest of Gold," that he gives to fans at events such as last week's Capital Challenge. "God allowed me to be disqualified from the world's most renowned athletic competition to show me how to be a real winner," it says.

Ryun and Webb are a generation apart, but they often hear the same question: What's the status of U.S. middle-distance running today, and will it get better?

Steve Scott ran the fastest mile ever clocked by an American, 3:47.69, nearly 23 years ago. He missed the world record by a third of a second. Some track fans grouse that the country's runners have stagnated since then while Britons and North Africans have improved.

Ryun is optimistic about the United States' running future, and is especially bullish on Webb, whose outstanding season last year included a 3:50.83 mile -- a fraction faster than Ryun's 1967 record. Webb says Ryun is a chief role model.

"I did a classic Jim Ryun workout yesterday," he said as last week's Capital Challenge was about to start. "Thirty 200s," meaning 30 200-yard sprints with little resting time. "Of course, he would do 40!"

Webb exudes confidence for the 2005 track season. "I'm in the best shape of my life," he said. "I see myself going as high as it can go."

The mile still holds a mystique for runners and fans everywhere, he said. "It's the only non-metric event they still run all over the world. It's a special thing, especially for Americans. . . . It's very difficult to train for. You have to train like a marathoner, and also like a sprinter."

Webb thinks his enthusiasm is spreading. "American kids are starting to believe again," he said. "We're starting to dream of being the best runners in the world."

A few yards away, the man who once was the best runner in the world walked toward his car. He had finished 183rd in the just-for-fun race, averaging 7:14 a mile. Soon he was back at the Capitol, ambling quietly among aides and reporters, many of whom have no idea he was the world's greatest miler and who see no special meaning in 3:51.1.